


Dirty memory

by Phantom_art



Category: Political RPF - Russian 21st c.
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Memories, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phantom_art/pseuds/Phantom_art
Summary: While waiting for Volodya in his office, memories of the week arise.(the summary is horrible, read it)
Relationships: Dmitry Medvedev/Vladimir Putin
Kudos: 20





	Dirty memory

**Author's Note:**

> Please help

It had been a strange week, too much if I count what had happened in the bathroom. Dima smiled nervously; now, in Volodya's office, she was waiting for him to arrive. They had agreed to arrive five minutes before midnight, though of course Vova loved to keep others waiting. 

She remembered everything that had happened during the week, from Volodya's call in the morning to her screaming behind the doors of the many baths in the Kremlin. Of course he was not uncomfortable with it, it was great to see Vladimir happy and in a good mood. After all, having a happy president was a happy nation. (It didn't apply to every country, of course), he laughed at the thought of holding the cold cup of tea in his hands. He looked at his watch closing his eyes in anger; it was past midnight and there was no sign of volodya. If he had not come, he could have called him; or informed his secretary that he was not willing to attend the meeting. 

He got up and let the air escape from his lungs, if Vova was not there for a while he would at least stretch his legs.   
He walked around the office looking at the pictures on the walls, noting the details that embodied each tile; which was quite clean considering that he could see their reflection. He walked to a window looking at the snow, a chill ran through his body as he imagined the cold. He could see a couple walking, they had so many clothes that they could walk like penguins. Most likely they were tourists; their clothes gave him away. The woman threw herself on top of the man, and both fell into the big white blanket, starting a snowball fight. How she longed to be able to do that with her lover, to go out and have fun without having to take a political stand for appearances. He was tired of it; he just wanted vova. He stood at the window for a while, looking at the happy couple as he thought he could be with his man. 

Hugging, he walked away, looking at the clock on the door. God, it was late. Possibly Vova had left him and gone home while he, like a tired idiot, waited for him. He left the office quickly as he walked through the corridors of the Kremlin. He was upset with Vova for standing him up; he would call him tomorrow or go to his office and tell him directly No, not that. The last time he did that, Vova rammed him hard, and that actually happened this week. 

"It wasn't my fault he was in a bad mood," he muttered, grimacing as he remembered. 

It was just a tantrum. He had been working on his papers when Vova called him into his office - it was an "emergency". At the moment he was almost shot, thousands of images crossed his mind; Vova could be in trouble and that worried him a lot. At the moment of opening the door his body tensed up; with a long sigh he entered quickly closing the door while watching Vova in his seat. 

"What is it?" she asked nervously, approaching the man.

"I wanted to know what you thought of the restaurant, I would like you to choose the Italian one," he said, drinking from his cup and then putting it on a tray.

Dima was upset.

He looked at Volodya closing the space between his eyebrows tightly. "Vova." He started by crossing his arms. "It's late, I'm sleepy and I have a headache that's killing me. You could do it tomorrow, I don't care."

The silence in the room came, Dima didn't dare speak.   
Vladimir's gaze remained on his face. 

"Come, Dima."

"Volodya was not..." Dima was stuck.

"Come now," he said, looking into Dmitry's eyes.

He didn't think twice.

"But Vova, you would have called."

"I'm not in the mood for such devices." He hit his legs. "Sit down."

Slowly he sat on Volodya's legs, breathing erratically as he nervously bit his lip.  
He tried to turn around, to look at him, but the man's hand stopped him. 

"You know, Dima, I'm upset." Vladimir began, touching Dima's back with light touches. "Get up."

Dmitry stood up in the confusion, turning around to look at him.

"Turn around and put your hands on the desk," he said, maintaining the same tone of voice he had at first.  
He did what he asked with difficulty.

His hands were shaking, he didn't want to be at that moment.   
I could hear Vova going through one of his drawers looking for something. He tried to turn his head to see it.

"Look straight ahead now," he said, pushing the chair a little further away. "Get your ass up." 

With her face on fire she did. 

He could feel Vladimir's hand on his ass, touching it delicately. As he took turns on both buttocks, Dima looked forward, unwilling to disobey Volodya. 

He shrieked as a metal bar struck his right buttock without warning. 

"Vova." he called out, clutching his hands. "What is this?"

"A punishment," he answered, striking again. "And it won't be a good punishment..." 

He closed his eyes when he felt the third blow, without stopping the trail of tears that were starting to flow. He squeezed his desk tightly, feeling that his throat was retracting into itself, which prevented him from articulating anything coherent; he shouted loudly, lowering his head.  
He was delighted with Dmitry's submission, with his willingness to take on everything even if it wasn't his fault.   
He struck under the buttock with a smile as he watched Dima jump. He could hear the young man's sobbing.  
He rose from his seat, approaching Dima's trembling body; sliding his left hand to unbuckle the belt. As he grabbed it, he continued to pull on the pants, releasing the button and opening the zipper.

"Volodya," he said, his voice on a string. "What you have in your hand." 

He quickly pulled down the pants along with the underwear, seeing a pinkish hue on the tender cheeks. 

"A ruler," he answered, knocking.

He closed his eyes with satisfaction, listening to her moaning. He took turns striking, making it impossible to predict what movement he would make. They were soft and strong; the perfect shade to give him some rest.   
He could see the wet desk with a few drops. He struck hard repeatedly, without stopping. He screamed and sobbed as his arms shook weakly; he had to hold on, be strong.  
He exhaled when he felt no more blows, he was in great pain.

"Vova?" he asked. 

There was no answer.

He closed his eyes feeling his hand touching his broken skin, if he could see he would know how red and purple it could be.

"Very good, Dima," he said, squeezing the skin he was touching.   
"You held it in, Svetlana would be proud."

She could feel the tip of Vova's limb on her lower back. 

"No need," he said, nervous to feel Vladimir's chest against him.

"It is, Dima, after all there is no punishment without some reward after my pet." He laughed softly, moving his limb up Dima's ass, smearing the lubricant in his hole. 

Without warning, a quick, hard entry. 

The young man opened his eyes with a groan. He fell on the desk because of the sudden movement. Leaning his head against the wood.  
He cursed as he felt his limb respond with need. He closed his eyes as he let himself work, feeling the sting as Vova's skin crashed into him.   
The man leaned in, pounding the inside of dima with precision, gasping for breath as it pressed against him and enjoying the pressure around him. 

"Dima," he said softly in the back of his head, "you must touch yourself."

He withdrew, striking hard again.

Dima brought his right hand to his hard limb. He cursed as he got excited about Vova and his punishment. He started pumping, moving his hand up and down, feeling that he would collapse from all the sensations. He groaned aloud as vladimir reached the sweet spot without letting it rest, constantly hitting that spot, sending Dima over the edge. 

"Looks like someone remembered a good time."

Dima was pulled from the memory, seeing the man's blue eyes, surprised to see that he had sat in one of the chairs outside the offices. Confused by what Volodya had said, he looked at his crotch in shame.

"What did you remember?" he asked, interested, sitting next to him.

"Nothing," he answered, red with shame. 

"Nothing?" he pointed to his crotch. "Nobody gets excited about anything, Dima."

Vladimir touched Dima's thigh, slowly rising.

"We're not leaving here, Dima, until you tell me." He spoke, approaching her face. "We have a meeting to attend anyway."

Then Dima knew it would be a long night.


End file.
